


Waiting For The Eastern Glow

by grumpyphoenix



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Incest, Light Dom/sub, Long Established Poorly Negotiated Kinks, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Sex Magic, general cheesiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix/pseuds/grumpyphoenix
Summary: In the middle of winter, Sam and Dean meet up with Castiel on the Queen's road. It's a -very- warm and thorough reunion.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	Waiting For The Eastern Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, first, thanks to [Cliophilyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra) getting this off the ground. It was supposed to be a part of a challenge, but I just didn't get it going in time.
> 
> I have some notes that I'll stick on the end, but in summary: This is set in a D&D world I'm still developing and that I ran for really like, a few weeks before we all realized it needed work. 
> 
> Yes, I got the idea for this from someplace. I won't say here, because then you'll know before you read it. I had a lot of trepidation putting this up. Despite writing some damn cheesy Fanfic on here, this is the nerdiest and most vulnerable I've been with it, so. 
> 
> Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

In the dead heart of winter, only one way through the mountains stays passable.The Frozen Stag Inn sits exactly halfway along that journey, partly carved into the rock cliffs that line the road. A half mile to the South of it is the border of Bright Haven, which is marked by the change from a wide cart path to a cleverly paved and well maintained road leading northwards, away from the capital city of Haven and into the Kingdom of Stone. 

The road, being maintained and patrolled by the Queen’s rangers, is safe even in winter. One just has to get through the pass from Bright Haven first. But as it is the only road, the inn is always filled to capacity at this time of year. 

When the travellers open the door, a chill wind blasts through the hot, crowded room, causing everyone inside to shout and curse before the door is quickly pushed shut again. 

The two men stamp the snow off in the entryway. While they are both big men, one of them towers over the other, buried in his thick fur coat, a scarf covering everything except his eyes. The other one is shorter and bow legged, already grinning as he sheds his own cloak and gloves, clapping his companion on the shoulder while he takes the room in. He doesn’t wait for his friend before forging ahead into the crowd, looking for a drink, unslinging the instrument case, securely strapped to his back.

The taller man speaks quietly to the boy who scurried over to meet them. He secures a room and space for their horses, then climbs the stairs, his steps heavy and plodding, barely looking at the main room at all. He merely lifts a hand to acknowledge his companion when he calls over, saying he’ll be up later.

At the bar, the regulars, strong, scarred men of the land, whisper to each other over their watered down beer. They’re quiet, but maybe not as quiet as they could be.

“They say that they’re brothers.”

“Brothers? That can’t be. One of them is a giant.” The oldest of them, hands gnarled with work, raises a skeptical brow.

“Well, my cousin was at the battle at the Great Ash. He said the bard held the big one in his arms and wept when it looked like he was dead.”

“Na, David, your cousin is nearly brain dead, and an asshole to boot. Wept?  _ That _ man?”

All of them take a beat to observe the man in question over the rim of their dirty pint glasses. He has managed to talk his way into a card game with some extremely tough looking characters. Laughing and smiling, he’s holding his cards like a fan, partly covering his mouth. With his pretty eyes and long lashes, he’s certainly disarming. A person could almost overlook the scars on his hands, the small dagger within easy reach, his body held like a coiled spring. None of the men at the bar miss it, but the card players are all drunk. Each one is an easy mark for a man who is willing to fight his way out if he’s caught cheating, and none of them have any doubt about whether or not he’s doing that.

The older one shakes his head, unwilling to let it go. “They can’t be. Remember the story about them and that demon? The succubus. Couldn’t come between them, it’s been said, their love was too strong.”

The rest nod wisely. The story was famous. 

The one named David takes a long drink and burps. “Brothers, I’m sure of it. Of course, that’s how they all are to the South. Just be glad they’re both men, eh?”

To everyone else here their raucous laughter might blend into the sounds of the inn, but to the bard at the card table, it carries a distinct note. That group could be trouble or they could just gently fall asleep over their drinks and then amble home when the landlord kicks them out. He can guess what they’re talking about, but it’s unimportant to him until it becomes a problem.

And any rate, if they’re joking about incest, no one is talking about anything else, which is just fine with him. Being a famous adventurer has its drawbacks. Especially when you travel the same road every winter. People can get ideas. He had tried to talk his brother out of it this year, but he wouldn't hear of it. 

The night wears on. Outside, the weather has turned and the wind sounds like the howling of restless dead as it shakes the shutters violently. His tablemates, skittish and superstitious, start giving him the eye. Just as he’s deciding that it’s better to quit while he’s ahead than to get kicked out of an inn in a blizzard, the door bursts open. 

Cold air whips through the room, bringing snow and stinging ice in a cloud behind the figure who steps through the door. He leans his whole weight against it, fighting the wind to get it closed. When he finally succeeds, he takes a second to stamp the worst of the snow off himself before he steps fully into the room. All eyes are on him. 

He’s dressed entirely in white, the clinging snow almost invisible against white fur and leather, and he’s lugging a great bag and a sword that’s almost the length of his entire body. The entire room is silent until the bard laughs and slaps his cards on the table face up, provoking a chorus of groaning from the other players. 

“Goddamn, Castiel!” the bard exclaims, striding over as the man in the doorway pulls off his white fur hat and face wrapping to reveal long black hair and fierce blue eyes. 

Castiel smiles wearily, wrapping one arm around the bard and pulling him into a hug. “Hello Dean,” he says quietly, kissing him lightly on the lips.

Dean steps away to look him full in the face, still gripping him by the shoulders. “Come on upstairs. I saw that kid bring hot water up for Sam. I’m sure there’s a bath. We’ll get you something to eat too.” 

Castiel ducks his head in acquiescence, waiting while Dean collects his instrument case and the pile of gold from the table. The room is still subdued, although some folk have already returned to their drink. 

As the two head up the stairs, they ignore the whispers that ripple through the guests at the sight of the coat of arms emblazoned on Castiel’s shield. He’d done it ages ago, just before the war started in earnest, and the sight of it tended to provoke bloody memories. He’d been a terror on the battlefield.

* * *

As soon as they’re inside the room they both let out a collective sigh of relief. It’s a big room by the standards of this inn, one bed and a small servant’s cot, with probably the only guest’s fireplace in the joint. Dean doesn’t want to know what kind of finesse or how much money was required to pull this out from under one of the merchants downstairs. Sam’s soaking in a very large copper bath filled with steaming water, eyes half closed, a burning cigarette rolled in delicate paper held between two slender fingers. His legs are crossed, resting on the opposite edge of the tub. He doesn’t open his eyes, merely finger-waves in greeting. 

Castiel starts the laborious process of getting all his gear off and Dean helps him, carefully unbuckling the sword and shield while Cas deals with his coat and armor. 

“The road is nearly impassable to the north,” Cas says with a grunt as he forces the cold leather to bend. “We might be stuck in this place for a few days if we want to keep a low profile. The rumors about the early eclipse are true too. The high priest himself met me at the temple.” 

Finally free of everything cumbersome, Castiel is left in a soft, well worn cotton tunic and breeches. He stretches, wincing at sore, overworked muscles. Dean watches him shamelessly, provoking a slow smile from Castiel. 

“Are we still really looking to open the portal at this point?” Cas asks. “After all these years, is there still any point?”

There’s silence for a few minutes, no one answers. Then Sam rises from the water, languidly stepping out onto the floor and wrapping a cloth around himself, drying off. He glances at the tub and makes a subtle gesture. The bathwater is instantly clean and steaming, the gentle scent of lavender lingering in the air. Castiel looks at Dean, who shakes his head. 

“Go ahead. You’re the one who was just in a blizzard.” 

Castiel undresses with a grateful smile, aware of the attention both brothers are giving him, and sinks into the hot water with a sigh. 

“I was there when the vacuum of space was created, and there is still nothing as numbingly cold as the Queen’s road in winter.” He shivers and settles back, watching Sam from under heavy lids.

Sam sits at the table, not bothering to get dressed, finger-combing his hair and smoking, silently staring at Castiel. His hair dries wherever his fingers touch it, settling into a gentle chestnut wave. 

There’s silence for a long time. Sam’s gaze is hungry, bordering on obsessive. Castiel meets his focus, the firelight picking up the light edges of his eyes, making them glow. Dean clears his throat. Neither of them move.

Dean leaves them to it and unwraps his guitar. It’s warmed up now, so he tunes it and then noodles around on it, starting to relax. All three of them are together again, and he can stop being on guard all the time. When the boy brings up a massive tray of food, Dean gets the door and gives the kid a huge tip. His eyes go wide, looking over Dean’s shoulder at something going on in the room, and he hastily shuts the door in the kid’s face.

When he turns around, Sam and Castiel are kissing. Slowly, languidly, open mouthed and intense. Sam’s hand is under the water, stroking him.

“Okay, okay, enough. We can do that later. There’s food now, and we do actually have to talk about this crap.” 

Sam shakes his head. “This now. I can reheat the food.” 

Dean grumbles, but trails off as Castiel stands, gloriously naked and wet, his muscular body pink and flushed from the heat of the bath. 

Sam helps him out and wraps him in the cloth, kissing him. “I want to watch you fuck Dean,” he whispers. 

Dean shivers. Castiel turns around, giving him a long speculative look. “Take your clothing off, Dean.” 

Dean wants to say no, to stick to his guns this time, he has something important he has to say to them both... but Castiel’s voice is gentle and firm. Plus, he and Sam are glorious together, and Dean hasn’t even  _ seen _ Castiel in nearly two months. He puts the tray down on the table. 

Castiel leads him to the bed, already tugging at Dean’s jerkin. Then he’s pushing him down gently, and Dean doesn’t resist, languidly stretching back across the covers. 

The way Castiel’s eyes consume him is a thrill that tingles up his spine. He pulls on Dean’s breeches, slowly unwrapping his prize, dropping the discarded clothing in a pile on the floor. 

He runs his hands over Dean’s legs, starting at his feet, moving up to his knees, his thighs and between them. Dean spreads his legs wider so Castiel can touch his balls, his ass, then slide his hand up to his rapidly hardening dick. 

Cas leans down, ghosting his lips over it, watching it twitch and grow with a smile, hot breath pulling a needy moan from Dean. He takes his time with his hands and his mouth, kissing and stroking upwards to Dean’s stomach and then on to his nipples, tongue flicking. 

Dean arches into it, happily reaching for him. Castiel moves quickly, sliding his hands into Dean’s and pushing them down onto the bed. 

He opens his eyes to look up at Castiel straddling him, weight held on the hands pinning Dean to the bed. The heat of Castiel’s body is intoxicating. 

“Please kiss me?” Dean whispers.

Cas smiles wickedly. “Ask Sam.” 

Dean licks his lips, his eyes flick over to Sam, who is watching intently. He’s hard, but ignoring it, feasting his eyes on them both instead. He gives a small head shake. 

Cas leans down to within a breath’s distance of Dean’s lips. “Sorry, my dear. Your brother says no,” he whispers.

Dean groans, closing his eyes. Castiel chuckles, kissing both eyelids, and then each cheek, and then his ear. It feels so good, but he  _ needs _ to kiss Cas. 

Then Castiel lets go of his hands to scoot down, and his mouth is on a nipple, sucking sharply, and every thought Dean has scatters. Castiel is a master at this. Small nibbles, tiny sharp points of pain followed by licking. 

Tiny flicks of his tongue drive Dean insane, followed by suction that makes him arch and beg for more. He doesn’t really notice what’s happening lower down until Castiel breaches him with one gentle finger in a maddeningly slow rhythm. He bucks against Castiel’s hand, he needs  _ more _ , it’s not deep enough, he needs...he needs...Dean fumbles, trying to pull Cas up to kiss him. 

Cas pulls away with a laugh, making Dean thump his head back against the bed in frustration.

“Now,” Sam says. There’s an edge to his voice. 

Castiel obeys, grasping Dean’s thighs, pushing them up and out a little to spread him even wider before pushing into him with excruciatingly careful slowness. Partway in, he drops heavily onto one hand, head bowed. His hair hangs down, brushing against Dean’s cheek. There he pauses, trying to breathe, staring into Dean’s eyes. 

Dean grips his shoulders, whispering softly through the heady mix of pain and pleasure. “Please, don’t stop.” 

Castiel lets out a soft pained sound and gives a long slow thrust, closing his eyes briefly once he’s entirely seated inside Dean. 

Sam makes a sharp, frustrated, noise. “Fuck him,” he whispers. 

“Impatient,” Cas murmurs, but obeys the command. 

He tries to start slow, dropping down to his elbows, skin to skin, lips inches from Dean’s. Avoiding his attempts to sneak a kiss, Cas nuzzles against Dean’s jaw, and ear, whispering poetry into his skin. 

Sam leans down and mutters into Castiel’s ear. Dean can’t hear what he says, but a complicated emotion flits across Cas’ face just before Sam yanks his head up and kisses him. 

“Hey!” Dean says petulantly. “What about me?” 

Sam raises an eyebrow, sitting back down. Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck and picks up the pace until he’s taking him hard and quick, in powerful thrusts that knock the breath out of him. 

Dean wraps his legs around Cas’ hips. The faster he’s fucked, the more desperate he is for a kiss. Just one kiss. Castiel pulls back to look at him, and his lips are  _ right there _ . He darts forward, but Cas moves away, snarling. He grabs at Castiel’s face, trying to pin him in place and take it from him. 

Sam rises then, moving silently and quickly to deliver a sharp slap to Dean’s cheek. Castiel makes a strangled noise as Dean tightens around him, going still. 

Sam stares down at his brother, his hands trembling. Dean locks eyes with him, defiant but desperate. They wait, each one testing the other’s will.

Castiel starts moving again, prompted by a soft touch on the shoulder from Sam. He closes his eyes while the brothers have their standoff, making every thrust shallow, not enough. He murmurs praise that ghosts over Dean’s lips, promising so much if he’ll just give in, teasing and torturing.

Dean breaks, the way he always breaks. “ _ Please, Sam, please let me kiss him!” _ he’s begging now, needy and pissed about it. 

“Give him what he wants,” Sam says. 

Castiel obeys, kissing Dean roughly, almost angrily. Dean opens for Cas, starving for it, hands buried in that luxurious black hair, blissfully almost over the edge...

Sam snaps his fingers. Dean is caught and held by his brother’s spell in the moment before he can finish, writhing on Cas’ dick, only able to gasp and beg into his mouth. Castiel takes his head in both hands and kisses him savagely. He thrusts up into Dean once and comes, his eyes flashing with a bright blue light. 

His hands caress Dean’s face, becoming gentle, whispering Divine words into his mouth, prayers of love and devotion. Castiel shudders his way through aftershocks, holding Dean close.

Then Sam is pulling him away roughly, batting away Dean’s hands as he blindly reaches for Castiel, begging for more, just a little more. 

Sam straddles Dean’s chest, his cock hard and wet. “Open your mouth.” 

Dean stares up at his brother. If it were any other time he’d be teasing, flirtatious and daring. Right now, all he can do in his desperation is open his mouth, letting Sam fill it, the taste overriding the sweet lingering sensation of Castiel’s kisses.

Sam presses in until he’s in Dean’s throat. Dean relaxes as much as he can, but he’s hardly thinking right now. All he wants is sensation. Frantic and lost, he grabs at Sam’s hips and ass, trying to drag him in further, as if there are any more inches to choke him with. His hips work with no friction as he whimpers around Sam’s cock. Let his brother do what he wants, he doesn’t care. 

Startled, Sam seizes the headboard to keep his balance, blindly thrusting now. Too pent up to last long, he loses all of his control, coming into Dean’s throat. Dean, too crazed to keep his throat relaxed, swallows, coughs and chokes. 

Breathing heavily through his nose, Sam pulls out, leaving a shiny trail down Dean’s chin with a satiated smile. He scoots down to lie on his brother, arms crossed languidly on Dean’s chest while he watches him try to figure out how to breathe again. 

Eventually, he stops coughing, but continues to shake, still held on the edge of release. Dean looks away from Sam’s heavy gaze. 

“Magic is cheating,” Dean manages to say, hating the hint of a whine in his tone. He goes quiet, because he’s going to start begging if this goes on any longer, and he’ll be damned if he lets Sam win again. 

Sam climbs over him, Dean’s dick rubbing unfairly against his belly, and whispers a single, magic, word into his ear. 

Dean jerks helplessly, coming hard enough to nearly black out. Sam kisses him, covering and swallowing his screams.

* * *

Dean is woken by the familiar sound of Castiel praying. Warm and wrapped up in a heavy blanket, he cracks his eyes open to watch. 

The shutters are open, which is unfortunate because it’s freezing outside. But the blizzard is over and the sun is rising, casting a lovely glow over Castiel, sitting cross-legged on the floor in a pool of rosy dawn light. In a few hours the world will become a dazzling display, all blinding snow drifts sparkling in the sunlight and the bright blue of a winter sky. 

Castiel is naked, his hands palm up as he chants softly to greet the day. He constantly marvels at Cas’ ability to ignore almost anything in the mornings, including extreme weather, Dean’s attempts to blow him, and the need to pee.

Dean notices a distinct lack of Sam next to him in the bed, which means that he’s been up for hours already, studying. Castiel finishes up his prayer and calmly rises to close the shutters before resting his forehead against the wood. “I think my balls have climbed up into my body for warmth.”

Dean snorts. “Will Shivitti withhold favors from you if you don’t make this sacrifice every morning? Can’t you just call in ‘cold and naked’ and leave it be?”

“Yes, he absolutely does. Or he doesn’t until I’m in extremis, and suddenly my magic doesn’t work, or I get shanked by some asshole in an alley with no warning. He is a jealous God, and his sister is worse.” Cas climbs into the bed, plastering his freezing body against Dean as he burrows under the blanket.

Dean yelps and bats at him blindly, to no avail. It’s freezing feet and thighs and hands until the two of them settle and everything starts to get toasty again. They are both starting to drift off when Sam barges his way into the room, carrying two trays and kicking the door shut behind him. 

“Wake up, for fuck’s sake. It’s already dawn. Here, have breakfast.” 

Dean glares at him blearily. “Sam, are you seriously suggesting that we get back on the road?”

Sam has on a set of tiny spectacles that never fail to distract Dean. They’re silver and pretty, made by clever elven hands. The lenses are some weird crystal that he’s spelled to do something or other - he never really pays attention when Sam yaps about magic crap - but anyway, with his hair swept up off his face, and the glasses perched on the end of his nose, Dean thinks he’s just asking to have his clothes ripped off.

A smile plays on Sam’s face, because he knows damn well how he looks. “Get up and eat while it’s hot, and we can discuss it.” 

Dean gets up, still naked, and sits at the table. He regrets it as soon as he does, because while the bed is now warm, the room is frigid. He pretends he’s not shivering and investigates the steaming bowl of breakfast… stuff. Probably porridge. Sam rolls his eyes and gestures to the fireplace, which roars to life. 

Toasty. 

Castiel makes a snuffling noise under the covers. Heartlessly, Sam pulls them down and slaps him on the ass. “Up.” 

Dean starts wolfing down breakfast, which is actually pretty good; sweetened with honey and a spice that reminds him of cinnamon. 

Castiel puts on a soft cream colored wool robe and sits sedately next to him. He picks up his bowl and tries it tentatively. “So Sam, like Dean says, are you suggesting that we keep going this morning? I’m not sure we’d get to Seawatch before we hit another storm.” 

Sam taps his fingers against the sides of the mug. “I have a spell that would keep us sheltered. I’ve been practicing it, and I think I have it down. If we’re going to get all the way north this year and try again, we have to move fast. If we linger in bed here, we’ll miss it.” 

Dean is suddenly not hungry anymore. He pushes his bowl away from him. “What if I want to miss it?”

They both look at him. 

“No, really. This stupid thing shows up every two years, and we’ve been four times. At some point, we have to give up. Last time…” He trails off, breath stuttering as he remembers the blood, and the awful wet bubbling sound Castiel made as he struggled to stay alive with one deflated lung.

Castiel’s hand closes gently around Dean’s and he slowly starts to breathe again. 

Sam’s watching him sharply. “You want to give up?” 

Dean sighs. “Yes. No. I don’t know. Look, I like it here.”

His brother raises an eyebrow. “You  _ like it _ here? You don’t want to find the person who stuck us here? That’s all I heard from you for  _ years _ .” 

Castiel rubs his thumb across the back of Dean’s hand. “Sam, so much has happened here. What we have together….we couldn’t have this back home.” 

Sam looks between both of them. “Dean. You’re telling me that you don’t miss our home? The bunker? The fucking car?”

Dean chuckles. “Okay, I miss my baby a lot. And indoor plumbing in every town, not just the sophisticated ones. And Led Zeppelin.”

Castiel snorts, which draws Sam’s eyes to him. “You don’t miss being an angel?”

Castiel raises Dean’s hand to his lips with a small smile. “No. I don’t. And I don’t miss Heaven either. The Gods here are powerful beings, but…” he makes a vague gesture. “The difference is vast. I can owe allegiance to one and still have a soul. I like it. I feel free here.”

Dean reaches across the table, but Sam only looks down at his hand. “Sam, why should we go back? What did we leave behind that can’t be carried by someone else?”

Sam cries out in frustration, standing and pacing around the room. “It just… it isn’t right. I feel as if we were pushed here. What if we’re being kept away? Why? What’s happening in the world we’ve left behind? And… and I…” 

He stops at the window and pulls the shutters open, letting the cold air seep into the room again. He stares silently out at the trees, his hands white knuckled on the windowsill.

Castiel drapes his robe over Dean, who’s shivering again, and walks up behind Sam to wrap his arms around his waist. They stay there quietly. 

Finally, Dean lets out a laugh. “Fuck, I get it now. Sam, you think this isn’t real!”

His brother whirls on him angrily, making Dean laugh harder. “Come  _ on _ ! You think that you dreamt up some kind of kinky D&D fantasy land where you get to fuck me on the regular  _ and _ be some kind of badass mage?” 

Dean studies Sam’s stricken expression. “You  _ do, _ you honestly do! You think you’re living in some kind of Djinn stupor right now. Don’t you? How long have you felt that?”

“Years.” Sam finally admits through clenched teeth. 

“Sam,” Castiel says gently, “A Djinn cannot keep you alive that long.”

Sam sits on the bed, his head dropping to his hands. “But if this is real… it doesn’t, it doesn’t feel... _ ”  _

Dean gets up, giving the open shutters the stink eye and sits next to his brother. “I get it. At first, it was all  _ too _ real, stumbling in here and having to live through not knowing what the hell was going on. It was hard. More normal because it was hard, too. When has anything ever been easy for us anyway? But now…”

Castiel crouches in front of both of them, resting a hand on each of them, looking up. “Now you’re happy.” 

Sam scoffs a little, ignoring the tears gathering. “I’m beyond happy. There’s nothing back in Kansas or anywhere else that I even want to see again. I can do real magic here without endangering my soul. We still actually help a lot of people.”

Dean touches Sam lightly, turning him to give a light kiss on the lips. “So I think, maybe we just get to be happy? Even if we do live in the absolute nerdiest place in the universe. I know I certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable kissing you...either of you…back home.”

Sam takes Dean’s face in both hands, searching his eyes fiercely. Then he leans in to give him a long deep kiss that leaves them both breathless. “Then, can we stay?”

Dean smirks at him. “Yes, Bitch That’s what I’ve been trying to say.” 

Sam smiles. “Jerk.”

Castiel stands and stretches, moving to shut the window again. “May I make a request, then, since we’re all decided to leave the portal and the cult that protects it well enough alone?”

Both brothers look up at him expectantly. 

“Can we, please, go someplace warm for a while?”

Sam beckons him close, and Dean pulls them both onto the bed. 

“Let’s wait here a few days first. Just to be sure the weather will behave,” Sam murmurs to them both. “After all, there’s no more hurry. We can head to Golden Sands. Find a place on the beach.” 

They move from the woefully small bed, to one of the warm furs spread on the floor in front of the hearth. When night comes again, they finally sleep in each other’s arms. Firelight plays over skin, picking out the highlights in Sam’s hair, and the sweet curve of Dean’s mouth. Castiel watches them sleep for a long time. 

The spell, he reflects, was worth the sacrifice of half his grace, made to the witch who’d cast it. He didn’t know precisely where they would end up, as long as they were far enough away from his Father that it made no difference. Let someone else play out His stupid melodrama. Castiel lays his head down and closes his eyes, lulled by the deep untroubled breathing of the men he loves sleeping beside him.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I have a hard time writing porn in this _very serious account_ , as opposed to my porn account, where no one knows who I am. Someday I'll get over myself. I hope it was okay. I'm making a map with an excellent map maker, but I have to get used to it. I might add it on once I do.
> 
> The God that Castiel is paying homage to (he's not really worshipping it) is the male half of a twin pair of Gods of War and Scholarship.


End file.
